Thursday, March 20, 2008

Di and Me

Everyone said that she was so pretty. I didn't think that she was so pretty. I mean, she was okay, but she had short hair. She wore pants. She looked like she could be one of my teachers. She didn't look like a princess, not at all.

He, of course, didn't look like a fairy tale prince, either, but I knew that princes weren't always Prince Charmings. Grandma had told me. 'You can't always judge a book by its cover.' That's what you learn from stories like the Frog Prince: just because someone's a little warty on the outside, doesn't mean they're not handsome on the inside. Prince Charles wasn't handsome, she said, but she was sure that he was very, very nice.

Princess Diana, on the other hand, she was lovely. Such a pretty girl. So sweet. Just like a storybook princess.

I didn't see it. What was so special about her? She had feathered bangs, just like my friend Wendy, who was a whole year old than me and very sophisticated, but not, you know, special. not like a princess.

We watched the wedding together, my grandma and me. We got up really early in the morning, and grandma let me have alphabet cereal, and she drank coffee, and we had blankets pulled up over our knees and we watched as Lady Diana's carriage rolled through the street - it was a real carriage, like the ones you read about, maybe not the kind that come from fairy godmothers, but a real carriage, with big wheels and flags - and we watched as she got out, in that big fancy dress - a princess dress, for sure, but her hair still looked ordinary - and walked up the stairs and into the church and all the music and Grandma dabbed at her eyes a bit and said that she hoped that Nana was watching this from heaven, because Nana would have loved it. I said I hoped so, too.

Grandma sipped her coffee and made a little noise in her throat and said that someday I would have a wedding, too, maybe not as fancy as that, but it would be really nice and I would be just like a princess.

I won't have hair like that, though, I said. I'll have princess hair.

You'll have lovely hair, no matter what, she said.

Princess hair, I insisted.

Being a princess doesn't have anything to do with hair, she said.

I'll be a princess when I get married?

You're a princess now.

No.

Yes, to me you are.

When I get married...

You can have a fancy dress and be all dressed-up like the princess that you already are. But you're already a princess. To me.

You'll be at my wedding, right, Grandma?

I hope so.

You will be.

She wasn't. She died the following year. But she was there, in my princess-heart, in that part of myself that knew, because of her, that my pretty dress that day was only window-dressing, that I was a princess already, no matter what I looked like. Just like that princess with the feathered bangs so many years earlier, who was princess, my grandma told me, because she was loved. Just like me.

Brought to you by the weekly Friday Flashback coffee klatsch. This week, we're jawing about "Where Was I When...?" (something big and important happened in the world - Elvis died, John Lennon died, the Challenger crashed, there was that solar eclipse, whatever - our parents did it with JFK, right? And if our parents did it...) Join and in and let us know - links, comments, whatever floats your boat - how to find you.

25 Comments:

My mom used to say "you're prom queen in my book" and although I thought, "she's my mom, she has to say that," I also realized that she was saying I was special to her and that's what mattered.

I didn't get princess Diana either when she got married. But when she died, I cried for days. It somehow hit me then, that people loved her for being ordinary and living the life of a princess and helping others.

I remember I was driving to community college the day that the OJ Simpson verdict was read. In my heart, I did feel he was guilty. I was obsessed over the trail, as was a lot of other people...I pulled into my parking space just as they said "We the jury....find Orenthal J. Simpson...Innocent" I was okay at first, angry, but okay. Then, I heard the Goldman family cry and let out this painful scream. I began to sob. I don't know why. I walked into my poly sci class with tears streaming down my face.

Yup, I got stuck on the hair too. To this day even, I wonder what she (or her assistant or makeup artist or whatever) was thinking. I was working a summer job and got up way early to actually watch it on TV. Even though her hair was blah, I did think it was beautiful. And I sobbed just a little when I heard that she died.

You sound amazingly young. I remember Di's wedding, I was married and had a kid. I now feel very old.

It is really a touching story you wrote. My grandma always said I was a special princess, she made me feel special too. Years after her passing, I found out I wasn't her only one. All 6 of her granddaughters were, but we never knew it. She treated us all as if each one of us was her only one. Thanks for reminding me of that!

You know, I remember other people getting up and watching it. it wasn't a big deal in my house, not that we had a tv anyhow. I remember when the first Gulf War started, when my dad came and told me mid-essay-writing that the us had dropped bombs on Baghdad. I remember, of course, 9/11, as I think everyone does.

What a great post and I just love the Friday coffee klatsch topics/concept. I'm not sure if just anyone can join in on the coffee klatsch, but this topic inspired me to blog on it as well: http://momily.blogspot.com/

That's so sweet. You just brought back the memory of my grandfather taking me to lunch soon before he died. I said something about my upcoming Bat Mitzvah and he mumbled something about not making it that long. It was crushing.

Bossy was camping, late summer, when her battery operated radio announced Diana's death. Bossy wasn't a big fan and she at first thought the death was Horse Related, but The Children! What were Diana's boys going to do? At the time Bossy had a 2-year-old and a 9-year-old and she couldn't fathom the loss.

Miss Minchin: "Don't tell me you still fancy yourself a princess? Good God, child, look around you! Or better yet, look in a mirror."

Sara: "I am a princess. All girls are. Even if they live in tiny old attics, even if they dress in rags. Even if they're not pretty, or smart, or young. They're still princesses. All of us. Didn't your father ever tell you that? Didn't he?"